Not You, Not Me
by HiddenShoebox
Summary: Sometimes Goku does not know what is real. Sometimes, lost memories are found - even if for only a moment. Goku-centric.


Goku thinks he is going mad.

He's making a bouquet of dandelions, picking only the prettiest ones. Every movement is accompanied by a soft _clink_, proof of the shackles around his wrist, their heavy metal weights flattening the grass and leaving tracks behind him. There is a breeze, soft and scented of earth and pollen, whistling around him, his hair floating around him. His but not his. This hair is long, almost reaches his waist, and there is no gold crown around his head. He's younger, too. This Goku cannot be more than ten years old, so where did this Goku come from? The thought slips away from him and he continues picking the yellow flowers.

A voice floats to him, and he looks up from his flowers with a smile. He is happy, so much so that he cannot contain it, he's beaming and laughing and just completely _happy_. This, too, is him but not him. The voice is louder this time, and he feels himself run to somebody standings some meters away. The chains clink and weight him down, but they don't stop him. Nothing does.

He slams into the speaker bodily, his arms hugging around the newcomer's waist, grinning up at him, flowers still bunched in his hand.

"Konzen, guess what, guess what! I got some more flowers for your desk!" Not-Goku's voice is high and sweet, innocence given sound. He stares up at the man (_familiar but not_), up at long blond hair tied back in a ponytail and violet piercing eyes and a face that he knows but doesn't, the mark of a divine being almost hidden in the creases of his brow.

The grin is wiped from his face a moment later.

"Stupid monkey! _Tell_ me where you're going before you leave, you insufferable brat. Kenren and Tenpou have been looking all over for you since you disappeared this morning!" Konzen's voice is harsh and he whacks Goku across the head, dislodging his arms.

"Aw, don't be worried Konzen, I was right here. The flowers I got for you last week are dying, so of course I got new ones for you! Where else would I be?" Goku waves the flowers clutched in his left hand in front of him, their bright colour sharp against the clear blue skies.

A heavy sigh is torn from the older man. "Let's just go back, Goku. And if you cause any more trouble on the way back…" There is a threat in his voice, but it is mostly lost on the younger being.

"I won't, Konzen! Promise!"

Mindful of the flowers in his left hand, he clutches the robes of the god in his right, keeping close to him as he walks. A slender hand places itself on Goku's head, slightly curled in his hair.

"I _wasn't_ worried…" Konzen grumbles, "I was mad at you. You disturbed my entire morning, I have so much crap to go through, and you just can't leave well enough alone, can you? "

Goku keeps walking and doesn't pay attention to him, used to Konzen's grouches and denials of caring. Besides, the words aren't important. He can see a slight smile on his face and the hand on his head is still there.

"Konzen? Why do flowers die? Why can't they live forever, like us?" The question is spoken softly, and Goku's looking at Konzen with eyes that are innocent (_golden eyes, a heretic's eyes)_ and heart that is too young.

"That's how life goes, Goku. Things are born, then they die. Things that die get replaced by new ones. Just because I'm a god and you're special doesn't mean we won't die one day. It'll just take longer to get there." Konzen's retraced his hand and his voice is less harsh than before.

"Now stop worrying about other things and start worrying about how you're going to make the afternoon up to me! You brat, you made me waste my valuable time and energy! You owe me, monkey!" He picks Goku up and is hauling him back to his office, Goku's peals of laughter ringing through the field.

"My flowers! You'll squish them!"

These flowers are for Konzen, so they must be perfect. Konzen deserves the best because he is the sun. And Goku needs the sun.

Goku wakes up with short hair and a limiter that chokes him and a clutched fist _(like it's holding flowers)_ and a shortness in his breath and sadness in his heart and an echo in his brain.

"_Things that die get replaced. Things that die get replaced. Things that die get replaced. Things that die get –"_

He's forgotten the dream by breakfast.


End file.
